Permission to Engage
by Zerbinetta
Summary: Fergus Cousland had spent years preparing a brotherly speech of warning for his sister's suitor. With her impending marriage, he certainly wasn't going to miss his chance to see if the man was indeed worth her time, king of Ferelden or not.


Inspired by Fergus' line that if the guy his sister is bedding isn't worth her time, he most certainly has to have a talk with him. Features a different PC completely to my other fics, Fracture, Seasons and Ever After, respectively, because Fergus is an awesome character to write and this couldn't be written without a Human Noble PC with the Queen ending.

Dedicated to all Alistair lovers out there, seeing as I don't really think I'll be writing Human Noble fics in the near future – this is an exception. My OTPC will always be my elven mage, Nimue, but every fangirl loves a good fem!Cousland ending once in a while, I think.

Read and review, please!

**EDIT: The story has been rewritten a little thanks to the awesome review courtesy of Imhotep Ardeth Bey, so if you went through it before, some things might have been altered to be a little more realistic. I****'m very, very grateful for the input and hope that the story (now finished) is a bit better for it. Peace out!**

**o.O.o**

**Permission to Engage**

**o.O.o**

The coronation and the announcement of the royal engagement was the news spreading through Denerim like wildfire, bringing out much rejoicing and happiness.

Of course, this also meant that many mobs of admirers, well-wishers and courtiers were brought upon the royal pair, giving them very little chance to converse with their comrades in arms, much less have any kind of private discussion or reunion. In fact, as the celebrations continued into the night (and possibly the next day) they were forced to retire for a while and it took several corridors and sturdy doors before the ruckus even subsided, leaving the main event under a slightly exasperated Arl Eamon's supervision.

Apparently, though, their first steps weren't towards their own quarters to get some well-earned rest, but to a guest chamber provided for a very special visitor.

"I have a surprise for you, actually." Was all that the new king said to his curious bride, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled her along by her now ring-adorned hand.

There was a single figure in the guest chamber, patiently waiting for their arrival. The man smiled brightly when his royal hosts entered, both because of finally being reunited with his remaining family and because the young woman's suspicious expression turned into one of wide-eyed wonder as she forgot all decorum and dignity, launching herself into her brother's arms.

"Fergus!"

The gesture would have no doubt scandalized most of the noble ladies and no servant from Castle Cousland would have believed that their young Lady would ever be this happy at seeing her older sibling alive and well, even after months of fretting over his safety when he had been lost in the darkspawn-infested wilds for so long. It was fortunate that neither of them were wearing armor today, too, because such a crash would have no doubt sent them tumbling.

The older Cousland laughed heartily and spun the woman around in a twirl of satin skirts and silken hair.

"My little sister is really all grown up!"

Fergus refrained from pinching her cheek as he might have done otherwise, teasing her about her sudden heroism. While his sister was a devoted warrior, she had always been a bit too much of a little rogue to simply throw everything aside to do her family's duty. The image he had had of the scheming little fox – or a spider holding far too many threads not to be forced to juggle them – had been thoroughly altered in these past few months, as he kept hearing about her exploits, which no doubt overshadowed even those of their ancestors.

"When I heard you were leading Ferelden into war as a Grey Warden, I almost couldn't believe my ears. And now I hear that I'll soon have to address you as Your Royal Majesty, Queen Briallen." It was so foreign, the word, but when he saw the girl dressed for the part – and it was possibly for the first time she truly seemed to be happy in a gown, as she avoided such things whenever possible – he knew that it was no jest or rumor. "You're dead-set on giving me a heart-attack, aren't you?"

"Not intentionally, not any longer." Briallen managed to choke out without reluctance, releasing him only to draw breath. Her eyes were shining with the same happiness he had felt upon hearing that someone of his family yet lived. She actually seemed ready to cry, which would certainly have given him the heart-attack. Or beat him to a pulp. "I was worried about you!"

"And I about you." The elder Cousland grinned. Teasing aside, hearing that someone yet lived had been like an appearance of Andraste in these troubled times. "I heard about what happened at Highever too late… and then the battle at Ostagar… truthfully, I had no idea that you still lived a few months ago. But I knew not even the archdemon could stop you once I heard that you were a Grey Warden."

"I'll leave you two alone for a little while."

For a moment, the fortunate siblings had actually forgotten that Alistair was still in the room, at least until the slight creaking of his fancy armor and the sound of the door opening slightly alerted them to his presence. He wasn't really looking at the reunited siblings, fidgeting somewhat. If Briallen had spotted it, she would have known this to be the shadow of Goldanna's memory still fresh in his mind. Fergus attributed it to pure nerves, now that there was a member of the family His Highness couldn't just weep off their feet present.

"I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do."

If Fergus had any doubts about his sister's genuine affection for the man – because, knowing her, she could have just settled for having a handsome puppet on her hands while she became queen – the smile that practically radiated joy she awarded her fiancé with wiped them all away.

"Thank you!" she cried, beaming so much that Fergus was almost certain that her face was going to break in two soon enough. "I'll be seeing you later, then."

The king wasn't too good an actor, so he wasn't able to hide his own happiness very much. He did restrain himself to a smile, though, even as something in him resented the happy sibling reunion just a little. "You know where to find me, my love."

And no shudder passed through Briallen at the words, despite the disgust Fergus was used to seeing in her whenever someone tried to call her such – or any other endearment that wasn't meant from the heart. As the door closed, his sister finally released him and sat down when he offered, already wary of the cheeky grin she was receiving.

"You could have sought me out sooner!" As usual, she emphasized her words with a punch to his shoulder. "Do you know how worried I was?! I was ready to believe you got eaten by a marsh toad!"

"Came close a few times, actually. But I could hardly deprive my own marsh toad the privilege of chewing me out, could I now?"

And Briallen laughed even as she smacked him again, because no one had dared call her anything other than Grey Warden or my lady or, more recently, Your Highness, throughout the whole journey. It was months since she had said goodbye to Fergus, believing that she would be the one stuck in one place with no true fun.

Funny how quickly things could change.

"So… Queen of Ferelden." Peculiarly, Briallen seemed a little sheepish, like a small child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Fergus could still remember such occasions vividly. "Mother would have certainly understood why you chose to reject all those pampered boys drooling after you. You've actually managed to find your prince."

"I have." Another sign of her genuine affection was that she deliberately missed the chance to offer a quip about the three lovers she was going to keep underneath her bed, in her armoire and outside her window on a special ledge. "And now you can't make fun of me because of it any longer!"

Of course, some things remained the same.

Fergus chuckled, though. It was good to see that his little sister was still in the regal woman he had seen presented to the crowd as their future queen.

"Drat, here I am, losing all leeway against you, sister dear. I'm proud of you, Bree." he added, in all honesty. She had surprised him greatly with this feat of courage and self-sacrifice, something even he, who loved her above almost everything else, hadn't thought her capable of.

Well, maybe not incapable of… but Briallen Cousland had always been a little too self-centered to actually give up her privileges and genteel birth for the sake of calling, even that of the Grey Wardens. That she hadn't run from it when given the chance spoke volumes about how the experience had changed her.

A crease between her eyebrows made her sunny countenance grim. "I just wish that our family could be here to see us now."

"They are watching from the Maker's side, love." Despite resenting being called Auntie (even though she never said so much to Oren), Briallen had obviously loved both her sister-in-law and her nephew. That she had been forced to bear the burden of uncertainty for even longer than he could have broken her. "How else do you think you could have ended up so fortunate?"

"Yes… yes, that's true." Briallen smiled once again, which no longer seemed an oddity.

They spoke at length, both about their experiences in the war and the impending wedding. It still seemed surreal to Fergus that his stubborn sister, ever the free spirit, had indeed consented to marry a man and tie herself down via said marriage. But then again, it only spoke of his own brilliance that she would indeed see the good side of matrimony when a man she held in high esteem came into her life.

Seeing as his advice had obviously worked miracles on the future bride, Fergus decided that it might be in the interest of all involved to impart some of his wisdom on the future groom as well. King of Ferelden or no, Alistair struck him as someone who had gone through many changes over a very short of time and certainly not as someone who could very easily deal with the noble-born streak his sister possessed. She had apparently lost much of it during her tenure as a Grey Warden, but Fergus had no doubt that it would resurface as soon as court politics would come into play.

And, seeing as the man quite obviously loved her, Fergus had certain duties besides merely ensuring that Briallen's wily side didn't come as a nasty surprise in the near future.

He decided to see to this before the wedding; were there any chance of the king cancelling the engagement based on these revelations, Fergus would have waited, but it quickly became clear that his sister had Alistair wrapped around her little finger, though she had yet to exploit it to her full advantage. That was the last clue he needed to assure himself that it was indeed love she felt, not simply an opportunist lust mixed with mild affection.

With that settled, he managed to approach Alistair in one of the rare moments when he wasn't surrounded by advisors, watched over by a wary Arl Eamon or attempting and failing to sneak away with Briallen (who was always surrounded nowadays, be it by ladies in waiting, well-wishers or admirers).

"May I have a word with you, my liege?"

The king was in his study, obviously trying his best to find a reason not to pour over yet another thick tome about the art of governance and ruling. He had caught up significantly over the past few weeks, though seemed quite willing to rely on Briallen's wit and upbringing when it came down to things. Fergus, being an honored guest at the palace, had free roam to almost any place, especially due to his relationship with Briallen.

"Of course, Teyrn Cousland. I am at your service."

It was odd to hear that from the king – even more so when it became very obvious that, at close proximity, the man was indeed Cailan's twin, though only in facial features. He possessed none of the boyish eagerness to be a great knight – the traits more suited to a boy Oren's age than the ruler of a country – and yet seemed a kind man. Thus a potential prime target for Briallen's scheming, should the opportunity arise.

"There's no need for such formality with family, milord; Fergus will do."

"Only if I may provide you with the same courtesy." the king said with a smile, motioning to the nearest chair, which Fergus gladly took.

Another of his oddities was that, whenever in private, Alistair eagerly took off his crown. To Briallen and Fergus, he had mentioned that it was bothersome when he was reading, as it had the unfortunate tendency of falling into his eyes. They both also knew that it was a sign that he didn't wish to become too accustomed to it.

"If you wish it." Fergus knew the manners Nan and his parents had hammered into his head wouldn't allow him such informality, though. It was difficult enough to wrap his mind around the idea that he was to be the King's brother-in-law. Still, now that he had managed it, it was only fair to finally fulfill his own lifelong dream - that is, the brotherly talk. "I was hoping to talk a little about Briallen."

Fingers entwining in a businesslike manner, it was almost as if this was his office and the king was a small boy scolded by the Knight-Commander of the templars. At least, the rigidity of Alistair's jaw suggested that situation.

"I understand that you were schooled in an abbey to be a templar and only recently got reintroduced to the world of politics. That explains, but certainly doesn't excuse your behavior." he said, raising a chiding finger to waggle at the king.

Alistair's eyebrows rose as he blinked in obvious surprise. He did seem a little concerned, though. "My behavior?"

"You've asked a noble lady to marry you; surely you know that you must also ask her father or, in the case when he is unavailable, such as now, her closest male relative for consent. That being myself, naturally." Fergus hid a grin after donning the best narrowed eyes and sharp voice for the occassion. He had waited years for this and certainly wasn't going to both this obviously once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The slight anxiety manifesting itself in the minor fidgeting that the king was exhibiting was obvious, despite the clench-jawed templar training kicking in. Apparently, he wasn't certain if this was a good thing or not.

"Well, technically, she did the asking, so I'm not entirely sure your accusation has that much basis behind it…" Alistair trailed off. This was babbling and a technicality at that, but damned if he was going to back down from a talk with Briallen's older brother when he had managed to stare her down when she did something needlessly cruel. Or pragmatic, as she liked to say.

He still remembered the day of the Landsmeet vividly; Maker, he would likely remember it for the rest of his life. It had been his intention to propose to Briallen after the Blight no matter what happened – after all, it was the only certain way he knew of that would ensure that she wouldn't have the chance to change her mind and fly from him – but having her do the asking was certainly… simpler.

Fergus laughed. He could just about picture the scene, like when they had gotten the mabari warhound that eventually went to her. Even though it had been a present to the Teyrn and not his waif-like daughter. That had certainly raised a few eyebrows.

"Yes, yes, that sounds like Bree. She never was one to wait for others to take the initiative. Did she simply announce it to you as if she were queen already?" The king didn't say that much, obviously deliberating whether he could expect retribution from his bride, should he speak ill of her in any way. That was a yes, then. "I can imagine that."

"Actually, she proclaimed it before the Landsmeet right after deciding that I should take the throne instead of Anora."

There was a trace of fondness in Alistair's tone, but also pigheadedness. Perhaps he hadn't been the one to decide this, but he certainly intended to show his future in-law that it was a decision he stood behind. It was a sign of his sister's influence that anyone would eventually submit to the wishes an authoritative woman, Fergus supposed; Briallen certainly wasn't wishy-washy once she was certain about something.

"I was… rather surprised." Alistair added nonetheless as he put away some of the forms he was done with. The Therrein signet-adorned finger lingered a little too long on a few, somewhat absent-mindedly.

Thoroughly enthralled, this one, Fergus concluded. That still didn't mean the man was right for their family archdemon, though.

"Ah, the minx is cunning as always. She never gives anyone the opportunity to refuse; you'll have to get used to such manipulation from her. She's outdone herself this time, really."

After a brief and almost nervous glance at his papers, Alistair returned to the previous question. "So… does that mean I have your permission?" Because he'd have to ask Arl Eamon what to do if he couldn't get it and if there was some way to convince Fergus to give it. And stop Briallen from making a scene about it, of course. That was a given.

Fergus finally did his best impression of seriousness without truly going there. Which was pretty damned convincing, if he said so himself. Especially the thoughtful drumming of his fingers against the wooden surface of the desk. That was always his favorite touch and usually the one that persuaded even his sister that he wasn't about to launch a surprise attack.

"You've put me in a difficult position, really. Or Bree has, I should say. Refusing would mean that I would not only be subject to your punishment, but hers." Knowing what the woman was capable of when she was being subtle was enough to make even Fergus fear what a full-frontal assault would be like. "I cannot guess which one could be worse, actually."

Alistair's carefully-hidden anxiety subsided to curiosity. Actually, he thought Briallen was rather kind-natured, despite the mask of toughness she was forced to wear as a leader. After all, even she hadn't been spared a few blushes and moments of averted eyes during their courtship.

"Is she that much of a terror as a sister?" Somehow, he doubted his bride would give him anything more than a glance of innocence personified, hurt that he'd even suppose that she could be anything like that.

The man knew very little about the everyday nature his sister's scorn could unleash; the Cousland heir felt a little gleeful at that. This meant that he had more than just a little edge on the man, which would make things far easier in the future.

"Oh, no, if she doesn't want to be. She could be the perfect little saint in front of mother and father, really." Ever since childhood, Briallen had known just how to make her lip quiver to make everyone blame him for her misdeeds. Her large doe-like eyes and the wonderfully affected tears were a sure bet at all times. "But if she wanted something… Maker help anyone who got in her way. She's been like this ever since she was little, I think. When Nan brought her dolls to play with, she would cry that she didn't want such useless things and fashion herself a sword out of sticks. Or beat people around with the toys until they got her the kind of playthings she wished for, if her persuasion didn't work."

And though there was no shame in admitting that the Hero of Ferelden would no doubt beat him to a pulp without breaking a sweat, Fergus was a little more reluctant to admit that his little sister could do the same – and with a ragdoll, no less. Even thought the two were the same person.

"I was under the impression that she prefers negotiation before, ah, bashing people over the head with things?" Alistair certainly hoped she did. After all, she had won the Landsmeet through her own cleverness, not through killing… well, unless one counted clearing the Howe estate of all residents wielding weapons that cared to raise them against her. But after what the former Arl of Denerim had done to her family, that seemed entirely justified even to someone like him, who strove for goodness and peace whenever possible.

"She does." Fergus nodded, but gave the other man a prolonged stare that was just enough to make him wonder. "And, just so you know, she's _very_ good at the innocent act."

Briallen could be scary, the men were in agreement on that. It was just that they had each seen a different side of her way of frightening people; Alistair had seen her slicing the throat of a man with the skill of an assassin and the subtlety of a thief. Fergus had seen her steal a guard's uniform, complete with shield and helmet, chase the servants around the castle and then dump all the equipment in his room to claim her own innocence.

At the age of ten.

But something else interested the King. He had inquired as to Briallen's own romantic past before, receiving an evasive answer only. Of course, as a noble's daughter, she was bound to have suitors, but Alistair was curious. Had she ever been in love before? Was there anything to contend with? Outright asking her seemed insensitive even to him, but perhaps now, there wasn't any need.

"You've given this kind of talk to her suitors before?"

Fergus saw the intent behind the question better than he cared to admit. Truthfully, he had friends who had tried to get him to introduce them to Briallen, only to end up with broken prides and hearts. Some of them even with the threat that their bones would follow if they tried to get touchy-feely, if they were particularly persistent.

"There never was cause to do so." Which was why this was so much fun, especially as it was rather easy to get the king to squirm, Fergus wouldn't admit out loud. If his sister got to be the hero, the least he was entitled to was being the one to ruin her reputation. "Bree never had any shortage of admirers, truth to be told, but… I wouldn't want to bore you with tales of years past, my king." Just a taste, just enough to string the man on to make _him_ do the asking. Because if Alistair intended to tell Briallen about this talk, he would be in for a beating afterwards – which was most decidedly Not a Good Thing. This way, the blame would fall on His Highness and not him,"Those things are behind her now, I imagine."

The king's smile was just a little tight, which was probably because he was assuming that this would be worse than it actually was. "It's Alistair and I certainly wouldn't be bored. Briallen never really spoke of these things."

Hook, line and sinker. After all, some of the tricks his sister used she had learned from watching him, or so Fergus supposed.

"She wouldn't. Well, as you might imagine, she was quite the spitfire ever since childhood." Even the jovial elder Cousland got a little lost in memories at that point, glancing away for just a second. "But somehow, every boy was smitten with her despite the fact that she wished for armor instead of pretty dresses."

In fact, at times, Fergus supposed he had both a brother and a sister; the former when she was with him, the latter when their parents turned their watchful eyes towards them. Briallen had adored their parents to the degree that she was willing to bend to their will in many aspects.

The initial warning didn't deter the king, though; his gaze was calmer now, still a little rigid, but attentive as well. "Your parents wanted to see her married quickly, then?"

Alistair could certainly imagine that the security of the Cousland line wouldn't be complete without several heirs, as his advisors parroted daily about his own line. And though the image of the young Cousland as someone else's wife was almost crushing – even though it would never happen now – he couldn't imagine that such a woman had been without options long before they had met.

"Father, not so much, but Mother was always desperate for grandchildren to spoil." Fergus knew the Teyrna had longed for a granddaughter whose hair she could plait the same way his sister had grudgingly endured during her childhood. "Anyway, Bree read far too much as a child and got this idea into her head that only the perfect knight on a white steed would win her hand in marriage. Which set all of her suitors against an impossible standard she continued to maintain for a long time. When she became aware of her own beauty, she made a game of things, leading them on, seeing how far they would go to trip over their own feet whenever she as much as looked at them… and then she simply threw them away like used dishrags."

"You mean she couldn't respect them when all they seemed to want was to impress her." Alistair summarized, hoping that he was right on this account. Actually, it made him wonder a little why Briallen had reacted differently to him, because he distinctly remembered wanting to impress her. That it had been amidst the two of them killing more darkspawn than he could count probably mattered. He could count quite high, after all.

Fergus smiled. Father had once said that the man who wore the jester's mask could be the greatest foe anyone could imagine, because he was easy to underestimate. Their king wasn't entirely the fool he might wish to pass himself off as, which certainly gave him some hope for the future. Besides, Briallen wouldn't have pledged herself to a brainless man, no matter what his station.

"I think I'm beginning to see why she likes you." Perhaps this one would actually last, the Teyrn supposed. That didn't mean he wasn't going to be there to laugh when the hell started. "I guess it does help that you are even higher on the social scale than she; I cannot tell you how many simply wished to marry Lady Cousland and not Bree herself."

And how they had all regretted it when their flowery words of love – at times faked, but usually genuine – got rejected. Get them to fall in love with you and then show them their own hypocrisy, Briallen used to laugh. It was, in her mind, the biggest triumph against their arrogance. They had supposed that she was indeed just an arm-candy fluff they could ensnare with pretty promises. And then, the mask would fall and she would dismiss them with a parody of their own high-handedness.

"Well, seeing as the Grey Wardens forsake their names and titles upon joining, I can assure you that it isn't my intention to secure my throne this way… though admittedly, it does help, I suppose."

"Those are Briallen's words, right there." Fergus could recognize his sister's handiwork, after all. Especially since the king's tone gained new confidence upon voicing that point.

Alistair wasn't about to deny it; after all, most of the pretense of nobility and genteel manners he put on nowadays had been gained through observing his bride or Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan, whenever they were around.

"I wouldn't need any other reason than my love for her, but when she simply proclaimed herself my betrothed in front of all the nobles… I get the feeling she was planning it, because she was very quick to give me a whole list of reasons why refusing her would be folly." he admitted, remembering her absolute certainty when she justified herself to him as the best choice for his bride. "Not that I had any intention to do so, save for the concern over having an heir. But…" The sigh was more tired than resigned, and the emotion behind it directed more at those that were pressuring him than the girl. "I would rather die trying with her than choose another."

It was at this point, most likely, that Fergus' inner critic grudgingly admitted that perhaps this was indeed a man who could live up to his own expectations of the perfect husband for his sister. That he had passed the little demon's own very harsh examinations with apparent flying colors was only one of the criteria on the list of said critic.

"I admit to having had some fear over whether this marriage isn't just one of her whims, but I've never seen her this happy. I think our parents would approve of you… and I do not say that simply because you are my king." Not that it didn't help the case, naturally. Having reminded himself of the fact that he was actually scolding the man who had the right to sentence him to death or exile.

Somehow, Fergus didn't really think that having his sister as the aforementioned man's wife would help his case too much. That was reason enough to swallow a little. He just hoped that the time of retribution for all their childhood pranks wasn't drawing near now.

But these words obviously meant the world to the king; he might as well have exhaled loudly. The change that came over him was almost as if the shriek holding him by the throat had just gotten killed. In any case, there was a newfound confidence to his gaze.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear that from you."

If the second highest-ranked noble in the country could respect him, perhaps he could indeed prove Anora entirely wrong and govern the country correctly, with the support of his vassals. Alistair was determined to do his part, though, and become as good a monarch as he could, despite this support being highly reassuring. And perhaps the start for that was now; while marrying a scion of the disgraced and then rehabilitated Couslands was a great gesture of benevolence and respect, he could still reward loyalty more.

"Your sister told me of the loss of your own family at Highever." It was the Teyrn's turn to battle with mild rigidness, even though he wasn't the one under the threat of Briallen's vengeance. "I know that nothing I can do will curb the loss, but if there is anything that you would ask of me, simply come to Denerim and my doors will open for you."

"Bree would make certain of that, I imagine. She learned a few tricks from my late wife." Fergus didn't go into detail. Alistair would have indeed stared if he had been told that Briallen's long-term closest confidante had been an Antivan woman – and many decisions and actions would have perhaps fallen into context for him – but he wasn't to find that out on this occasion. "I… hope she is proud of us all."

"My condolences once again." Alistair repeated, unsure what else to say. At least he was handling it better than the insensitive and stupid way he had asked Briallen about the issue. The loss of Duncan had hurt hard then, but when she mentioned that her entire family had been slaughtered days previously... yes, there were indeed times when he felt like smacking himself. "I myself have experienced loss of someone close to me. Just remember that you always have a place here with Briallen and myself."

"Yes, and I imagine a nephew would have eased the rambling of your advisors on the succession problem." Fergus added with a rueful smile. The royal pair wouldn't have pointed this out, but the advisors certainly would have seen this and celebrated.

But Alistair wasn't quite confident in that; it seemed that his first duty as king was to always put up with the nitpicking of his advisors. "As we aren't blood relatives, I'm not entirely sure, but it would certainly have eased my mind." Wisely, he chose not to delve deeper into the issue, fidgeting just a little.

The mental image of Connor (his step-cousin now, Alistair realized with some mild fright) dead had been bad enough. Imagining another child dead... one that possibly had Briallen's eyes...

It was best not to dwell on things no one could change, the king concluded, allowing his emotional control to resume.

Indeed, this man was worthy of his sister, Fergus finally admitted, no longer grudgingly. Perhaps he would tame the saucy minx somewhat through the obvious remnants of innocence in him, while she would help him become a strong and good king with her steely will and mastery of manipulation. It also helped that he was now certain that it wasn't merely a marriage of convenience.

"I can imagine."

"So… I do have your permission, then?" There was something decidedly un-kingly about the reigning monarch of Ferelden behaving like an odd mixture of an eager puppy and a bashful little boy. And, strangely, this seemed like a good thing.

"Seeing as Bree would likely dye my hair pink in my sleep if I refused… you do." Fergus announced ceremonially, slipping on the mask of the wise commander again. He grimaced just a little afterwards. Just how much did those two talk about family? Best... to make sure right now. "Just… don't mention that to her. I wouldn't want to give her ideas."

Finally, any trace of strain fell off the younger man and Alistair himself laughed, without too much thought spent wondering on what other childish but highly inventive pranks his bride had pulled on her sibling during their life together. "A thousand thanks, then, my brother."

He had never called anyone that, certainly not Cailan, but not even the other Grey Wardens, out of the tiniest fear that they would consider it a little foolish of him. But now, with an actual family, the fear of rejection had fallen off Alistair's shoulders as he realized that this was the home he had been searching for; not a sister whose blood he shared but who felt no kinship towards him.

Family was now his bride, whom he would be able call his for the entire world to hear within a short time, and her brother, whom he was resolved to treat as his own kin.

Teyrn Cousland, though feeling very much the same, had one remaining duty to deal with, though.

"Now comes the part when I claim that I'll kill you if you ever hurt my beloved little sister, but we both know that Briallen would beat me to it." Fergus sighed. He never seemed to get any fun when his sister was around. "I'll call dibs on dancing on your corpse, though. I jest, my king." he added with a grin when Alistair appeared to have gone a little white. Really, he seemed ready to snap the quill in his hand, so rigid his shoulders had become. "It's plain to everyone that you love her greatly."

"But the rest wasn't merely a joke, was it?" Alistair asked, quite seriously.

The answer was painfully clear to both of them without Fergus even answering. However, the Teyrn did so nonetheless, smiling in an entirely unhelpful manner.

"You should know that quite well yourself by now." he added, but the devious look in his eyes quite clearly signified that he was most glad that the beatings wouldn't be his duty to bear any longer, now that his sister dear had a husband to torment.

The sad fact of the matter was, Alistair did and had quite enough cause to fear that situation. In a straight-up fight, he would have the upper hand and give the young woman a hard time, but if she struck him from the shadows or used one of those underhanded moves she was so fond of… yes, he was pretty much toast if this happened. Thank the Maker for his absolute confidence in the fact that no other woman would be capable of catching his attention in a manner even approaching the way she had.

"She isn't exactly a gentle flower when scorned – sometimes I think her name was a prophecy courtesy of our Mother dear." Fergus added, trying to ease the mood a little. Andraste's light, Alistair seemed to have taken things seriously. Well, he wasn't about to try and console him with the fact that Briallen's actual revenge might take the more devious form of exiling him from the bedroom for an indefinite period of time. Both punishments were quite dire. "Primrose. I bet she wouldn't like maces and swords so much if she was called Poppy."

Their Mother had obviously been a witch in secret, jinxing the girl since birth. Fergus idly wondered if that talent had the tendency of passing on from mother to daughter among the Couslands and his future niece or nephew (hopefully) would turn out to be twice the terror his sister was.

"Really?" It might have been surprising to Fergus that the king was actually interested in such a useless scrap of information, but this actually caused a few things to fall into place for Alistair. There _had_ been a strange look on her face when receiving the rose from him, but he had attributed it to her usual dislike of the flowers, as she told him later on. "She never mentioned that…"

Among many other things, it seemed.

Briallen did say that that was the only rose she would ever treasure, though.

Oh, she was_ devious, _Alistair realized now, as he recalled the little smile she had given when it had become clear that he had absolutely no idea regarding the meaning of those words. And then he had fumbled with his own, saying that she had no doubt received many flowers in the past.

Of course, Briallen had laughed. But none that actually stemmed from the same kind of bush as I myself, she had said.

"Mother wished for a little princess. Ironic that she would get a queen, isn't it?" Fergus' grin was annoyingly knowing. Their dear Mother must have been a prophetess of sorts; she had actually considered naming her girl Rowena, in honor of the then-current Queen Rowan. Certainly the darkspawn invasion would have been thwarted before it had the chance to start with her gift of foresight at their disposal.

"I think she was a queen back when I was simply a commoner, my friend." the king admitted, realizing that he would have to have a few conversations with his future wife to see if there were any other things she had laughed herself silly about in the privacy of her tent. The ice queen, perhaps, at first, then the warrior queen and, finally, the queen of his heart, cheesy as that might seem to anyone.

Fergus didn't even bother to hide a good-natured guffaw at that. "Just take care not to tell her that!" he warned, laughing still. His sister might have been caught herself, but she had certainly gone down with a trump card up her sleeve.

And she seemed to have learned that surrender was perhaps sweeter than victory in some rare cases, Fergus could suppose when he was leading her towards a priestess a few months later, garbed in a gown of white, the crown she had been born with finally being placed on her head for all to see.


End file.
